Perfervid
by tectrices
Summary: [AkkiGure] But there was nothing. But there was the flame. But there was his moment, and her revelations on the only man to make her feel like she was something more.


**_Perfervid_**

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket. _  
**Date:** July 1, 2006  
**Title: **Perfervid  
**Fandom:** Furuba  
**Pairing:** of dogs and gods  
**Rating/Warning:** 'T' this time, but know that it's about an explicit pg-13-- SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

**A/N:** Almost a companion piece to "Momentary". Focused on Akito (femAkki forever!). R&R. Enjoy!

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He was, she decided, nothing but a _man_.

And he knew how to think, look, act, taste, smell, and _feel_ like a man far better than she ever could. She knew, from listening to that foul little voice deep down inside, that she was nothing more than a scared, shaky little girl.

_Girl. Woman._ Those words had always been taboo. What she was, what she was forced to be, by the very force that had caused her to be, was exactly what she wasn't. To a large percentage of the world, she was a _he._ She was a him, a male, a boy, a man– never allowed to feel feminine, never allowed the womanly graces she knew so many other young females got to experience. Truthfully though, she was rarely bothered by it. Sometimes, looking back, she felt a bitterness for all she had missed, but that always passed quickly. Gender was relatively unimportant– and anatomy told all anyway.

That was one of the reasons, she decided, that she hated Shigure. Hated him just as much (she told herself, though it wasn't true) as she loved him. He always made her feel inescapably female. When he looked at her, with those empty, empty eyes and he told her secrets with his smile, or when he spoke so callously, wounding her with words like daggers, or when he held her and touched her and made her body shake... Whenever he was unquestionably, totally, utterly and even _absolutely_ Shigure, she felt shy and coy and– dare she even let the word into her mind– _beautiful_ and bold. He could convince her of anything with those worlds of knowledge he held in his fingertips.

Even as he hurt her– with his cruelty and kindness and low-life loyalty– she felt the thrill of electricity that he could spark between them. He spoke to her without words. His body called hers, man to woman, in something so deep and ingrained and seeped into humankind's collective consciousness that even her unshakable conviction of her own godliness seemed frail and so very insubstantial. Her face would flush and her heart would flutter and there would be a rush of _heat_ that she couldn't explain. That warmth and flooded feeling of unutterable desire came so often when he was near– he made her body explode a thousand times with just a sweep of those cold, caressing eyes. There was always that heat.

He was, she decided, something paranormal.

How could something average and everyday affect her as he did? How could anything outside of that great realm of _everything_ make her want to live in his gaze and die in his arms and be a part of that irritating _man_ forever? It was something she didn't understand, and if there was one way to infuriate her in a second it was to present her with something she didn't understand. He was like a maze– and she had decided that it was her mission to make it to the center.

These revelations came as she lay beside him one night, another secret meeting of lovers who were so much less (Or were they so much more?) than friends. The stars outside– like maddening little smiles stuck like flashbulbs in the sky– were bright with an ancient glow and the darkness had wrapped itself around her in a blanket of undefinable feeling.

Shigure was asleep.

She had waited until she was certain of that– until his eyes were firmly closed and his restless turning was stilled. Then she had slipped over and pulled on his robe– that was still heady with the unmistakable scent of warm, fresh Shigure– and sat down to watch him. He seemed so sincere when he was sleeping, lost in dreams and busy rejuvenating his body. It was almost as though he were a completely different person. But then she traced his outline with her eyes and knew that there could be only one.

Even if he was just a man– a paranormal man she hated– he was hers; he was hers to judge, hers to hate, hers to... love.

At that thought, she pulled her knees up to her chest and shivered. She knew she loved him; she _wanted_ to love him. But he didn't love her. He used, abused, and wasted– he never wanted. Even though she had slept with Kureno (who couldn't even compare to him, if that was what bothered him), she only had a heart for him. She loved all her precious ones– those cursed by the vengeful spirits– with all her twisted, tattered heart, but Shigure... She more than merely _loved_ Shigure, she was connected to him in a way that she couldn't even begin to understand. He was _more_ than her everything: he was the one, the only thing, the very essence of life.

She honestly believed she understood the nature of their relationship. She didn't, though, and she couldn't until she even admitted she _was_ human, that she _was_ a scared, shaky little girl. She thought she was nothing to him, when really she was even more to him than he was to her. (He _knew_; he _understood_; and therefore he could appreciate as she simply couldn't.)

She sighed and watched as he turned his head towards her. That familiar heat set in again, and for the briefest moment she could have sworn she was happy.

To her surprise, his eyes blinked open.

"Akito," he said roughly, his voice smooth even through sleep, calm and persuasive and rich and wonderful. "What are you doing?"

She scooted over closer to him, and put her hand on his cheek. "You were supposed to be sleeping."

He chuckled. "I was sleeping; but it's hard to get a good rest when a certain someone's sitting over you staring like her eyes are glued open. It's a little unsettling, if you know what I mean."

She made a grunting sort of noise in her throat. "Well..." He was looking at her, with that look that made her want to run away from the world for him. It made her nervous. Excited, but so, so nervous. "I think–"

"Do you know what _I_ think?" he interrupted, sitting up a little and balancing on his elbow. She glared a little and shook her head. He grinned. "I think that I'm looking at the most beautiful thing ever created."

Was that corny line supposed to affect her? She turned her face away, unable to come back with a snappy retort because for some unfathomable reason her cheeks were red as blood.

"Take that off," he instructed, noticing what she wore. "It's mine anyway."

She raised an eyebrow. He dared to direct her, to command her to do anything?

It hurt her pride a little that she knew he could ask her to bring him the moon and she'd do it. He made her feel every inch a woman then, and she was all too aware of her body, pulsing and aching for his. "Why should I?" she asked harshly.

"My silly little Akito-san," he murmured under a smirk. He gently found her hand and kissed it. "Why shouldn't you?"

She was all too eager to let him pull her into an embrace, tumbling on top of him as his arms wound their way around her. Where was the rest of the world? Why wasn't fate stepping in to stop them? It made her too happy to be able to be near him– shouldn't something be trying to rip that happiness away? He kissed her neck and rolled on top of her. She felt skin against her own, and nearly had to scream from the hot, searing sensation.

"I want you naked," he muttered, nipping her ear with a hard little bite. "Now."

She couldn't answer; she could only exhale.

So he slipped the wall of garment off her, yanking the fabric hard enough to hurt, throwing it far off to the other side of the room. And suddenly she wasn't real. Suddenly he took away her flesh and replaced it with the film from the ocean; he took away her blood and filled her with starlight. He crashed into her like a wave, once again desperately trying to make her believe in herself in their small part of everything.

Her legs wrapped around his waist. He was a large man, heavy arms and legs, with a slim tightness about him that she had never seen replicated. He made her feel so small. (What she couldn't say was that he made her feel so _safe_.) Her hands pulled his hair and grabbed desperately at the unyielding flatness of the floor as his mouth suddenly leaned in and with a confident moan found a breast. He was awake and alive– and fully and finally and entirely alive– and he could touch her like she was the light from the eerie, incandescent moon. Already she was gone, her body wet, wet, wet with sweat, the light in her eyes burning with new fire, the crackling electricity bringing the longing she felt to an aching fever pitch.

And, she decided, there was no other world to live in. There was no other life to live. There was only her _now_, her moment, her beautiful, strange, enigmatic, marvelous man.

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End A/N: Thanks for reading! I was bitten by the AkkiGure bug, and this was something that I just had to write. Reviews are revered; send 'em in and you'll be my hero. (beam) Hope you enjoyed it!  



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